


I will wait

by LadyKayKay



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Modern Westeros, POV First Person, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKayKay/pseuds/LadyKayKay
Summary: Dany is a banker, dating Drogo for the past 6 years and she's wondering when her life will start. Jon happens to be at the same bar, they drink, they dance and things unfold.Told in first person, the chapters will change between Dany's and Jon's POV. It's mostly drafted, but not finished. The plan is to update weekly.Also, I owe nothing. Everything belongs to GRRM, D&D, HBO and whomever else that signs for the series.*COMPLETE*
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 83
Kudos: 213





	1. Dany I - While I was waiting

Drogo is late or I am early. Who can tell anymore? It boggles the mind to think a small thing like arrival time can indicate a problem in the entire relationship. On the outside, there are not a lot of signs that would point to our love affair being anything less than what dreams are made of. Drogo is a veterinarian, one of the well established stars in horse breeding, his family business. I have a career that jets me away to sandy beaches full of love and hope, to cities full of wonder and wishes, and anywhere else the world of international banking takes me. We are both successful and ready for the rest of our lives.

But behind all of the carefully constructed dream couple is a woman left wondering when the rest of her life is going to start. We have been seeing each other for six years. We met very casually after he came to the university to speak about business in the equine reproduction field while I was finishing my graduate studies. It was anything but love at first sight, but gradually we grew to enjoy each other, to love one another. Now, we have become comfortable in our skin, in our lives with each other, with our decision to not get married right away.

So, what is the problem? We are too comfortable. There is no sense of urgency in his touches anymore. He doesn’t take my breath away when he walks into a room. I no longer see fireworks when he kisses me. People might say that what I am describing is simply what marriage will become. But those people have a wedding band on their left ring finger. I do not.

Tonight, I sit here in a simple black dress, black heels that give me two more inches on the world that I normally have. My silver hair is down, and I think that maybe, just maybe, this will be a good night. He said to dress up, and we would go for drinks, dinner and dancing. Six rolled around about thirty minutes ago and I am looking at the remainder of my first glass of Dornish wine. I question whether or not he said six or seven and right now, time is not the only relevant point of introspection.

I fumble with my napkin, sitting at the bar, draped in thoughts of what should be or what could be. My phone rings awakening my senses. I blame the stupor on too many questions and too little wine. So, before I pick it up the phone, I promise to ask myself less questions and have some more wine.

Drogo’s on the other end giving the requisite apology and an estimation of another thirty minutes. He asks me to wait for him. I agree. Seems that is what we always do. He asks me to wait, and I do. There is a bigger picture here, I know there is. But my promise cannot be broken, so I order another glass, and go about the fine art of fumbling with my napkin once again.

“The napkins seem to be pretty interesting in this place.”

A deep voice takes me by surprise. I turn to my right to see who the intruder is, expecting to see a middle aged man with a disco shirt and a large medallion hanging from his neck that accentuates his wide bell bottom pants and his slick as oil coif of hair. Instead, I am staring back into eyes that radiate something I haven’t seen in years. Passion. They are alert and soft and a deep gray, a gray that I didn’t know existed. Just out of bed curly hair, tucked stylishly behind one ear, that is somewhere between brown and black, but on closer inspection, you suspect that a new color needs to be named in order to do it justice. You can’t help but notice his chiseled features, the perfectly trimmed beard or the way his white shirt is unbuttoned just enough to tell you he works out and that he doesn’t wear a gold necklace. And what you can’t get past is that you noticed all of this in the space of five seconds, because he doesn’t suspect that you have just give him the once over. Or at least he doesn’t let on.

“They are nice napkins.” Not the wittiest comeback but I am a little out of practice. I give him a slight smile and I am rewarded with one from him, which only makes mine grow wider. 

He reaches across to shake my hand and he introduces himself.

“Hi, I am Jon.”

“Daenerys.” And that, people, is a miracle, because the touch from this man just supplied me with goose bumps that will get me easily into next year. I have fought off incoherency for now.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daenerys.”

I am suddenly nervous, but excited all the same, and yet my mouth knows nothing of either one of these feelings, because it takes off.

“Nice to meet you, Jon.”

For the next forever minutes, we talk about our careers, and the hot dog vendor down on the corner of The Hook. We chat about the woman who is currently giving into her third glass of scotch. Jon says its two, but I have been here longer, so I win. He tells me that he works for a law firm downtown and I know it well. One of my clients uses his firm. But we really don’t talk business, it is more of a realization that we live in a very small world. He tells me that he grew up in Winterfell. He doesn’t have an accent anymore, but he gives me a little demonstration and when I answer him with the classic ‘aye’, he laughs and tells me I am perfect. No, I tell him, I am just an international banker. He wears his black suit well, but in a way that says he is comfortable and not trying to impress. Impress he does, though, and suddenly we are laughing about the bartender and something else Jon said, but I can’t quite remember. Because all I am concentrating on is the sound of his laughter.

And then his hand covers mine on the bar, and I am jolted back to reality. This is too much fun, and going way too well. And the feel of his hand on mine makes me light up from the inside out and he is slowly setting me afire. The last of his laughter dying out as he looks at me, grinning for the whole world to see and then he is serious.

“Dance with me?” It wasn’t a command, but more of a question or maybe he is pleading with me. Because the way he is holding my hand, I know he is only asking for permission.

“Jon....” And I hesitate and he knows.

“You are waiting for someone. Aye, I kind of figured that. You are too beautiful, too amazing to be single.” I swear my heart just stopped. Or did it just explode, because there is something about him that is so sincere.

And when he begins to let my hand go, I make a decision. I grip his hand tighter and say the words I know I will most likely regret later. _Please, let me regret them_ , I pray.

“One dance couldn’t hurt.”

His smile matching mine has he leads me to the middle of the dance floor, twirling me into his arms when he reached his intended mark. And still holding my hand, the other reaches around and rests itself on the small of my back. I have to fight the shiver that threatens to course up my spine. My hand resting in his, and one on his shoulder. We dance to a song about daring to let be the one. A raspy voice asking her lover to give her the chance to walk a mile until the end starts. And its slow and its intense. I make a mental note to find out who sings this and put it on my playlist immediately. We are dancing closer than we should be, well, than I should be, but right now I am not even thinking about should be’s. I am thinking about what could be. Our little conversation carrying on from the bar, he asks me if I know any good Essossi restaurants. I tell him that there is this one on Aegon’s High Hill that reminds me of my favorite restaurant in Meereen. He wants to know the name of it, and upon the mention of The Dragons, he beams. He tells me exactly where it is, and I am amazed that once again, this stranger has seen so much of the world that I have.

We gush about the food and the wine, and the ambiance. Before I knew it, one dance had turned into two and was well on its way to three, when someone spoke over my shoulder.

Drogo’s voice sounded so calm, so sure of himself, as I disentangled myself from Jon.

“Hey, _shekh ma shieraki anni_.” He took my hand and kissed me lightly on the cheek, “Sorry, I am late. Hi, I am Drogo.” And to my relief, Jon reaches his hand out to Drogo, shaking it lightly.

“I’m Jon.” Drogo’s expression taking on that of someone who just met his limo driver or the bellboy who takes his luggage to his hotel room. Jon’s was something altogether different. It was wounded, and unsure. It was almost possessive. For two minutes before, I was in his arms, and now Drogo held me.

“If you don’t mind, Jon, I am going to cut in.”

Jon, to his benefit or for mine, I really don’t know, maybe a little bit of both, made the grand gesture of removing himself from my side.

“Sure… sure. Well, it was nice to meet you, Daenerys.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Jon.”

“Drogo, you sure do have a beautiful wife.” And with that he walked away, and Drogo laughed just a little and wrapped his arms around me. He hugged me, dancing and talking about the reason he was late, but all of it just flew over me. I watched Jon walk away, walk through the crowd. He paused at the front door, his eyes meeting mine, and his gorgeous smile warmed me once more. He waved just a little, as I waved back. Drogo oblivious to all, still telling me about Qhoto or Haggo or someone and their new reproduction technique.

Jon’s last remark hitting home, somewhere close to my heart. I realized at that moment why I wasn’t Drogo’s wife. It was the truth to say that he had not asked the question, but more importantly, I realized that we wanted different things. Drogo wanted a girlfriend, a companion. I wanted something else entirely. I wanted a husband, children, a family, a red door and a lemon tree. Drogo wanted that someday, I wanted that journey to begin now.

Drogo still talking over me and through me, as I made him stand still with my next words.

“We are not going to get married, are we?” The shock in his eyes, turning to something new as he laughed at me.

“Where did that come from? Oh, are you referring to what that guy Jack said.”

“His name is Jon and yes, I am.”

“Jack, Jon, whatever. Point is, Daenerys, we have been over this. We have all the time in the world. Why rush things?”

The words tumbling over in my mind. The answer to his question, why rush things, right there at the top. I knew in that moment that Drogo had no intention of marrying anytime soon or if ever. I made a decision there dancing with Drogo in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And yet, I wondered if the decision had actually been made while I was waiting for him. While I was waiting for him, I realized that there were things we were missing, things that we no longer had, and maybe we never had them to begin with. While I was waiting for Drogo, I met Jon.

“Drogo, this isn’t going to work.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I am saying that I have been thinking. You like the way things are right now, Drogo and I... I want so much more than this.”

“Wait, is this about that guy?”

“No, Drogo, this is about us. You and me. We haven’t been right for a year now. You have to admit, there is something inherently wrong about us.”

I see the moment of clarity in his eyes. He knows exactly what I am speaking of.

“Daenerys, I am sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just look me in the eyes and tell me that you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with me.”

There is a moment of hesitation and while another might have been disappointed, I was relieved.

“Dany...”

“Drogo, its okay. We both know the answer. And I wouldn’t be able to do it either.”

He sighs, and I know that he is truly upset and a little sorry. We had four good years and a couple of mediocre ones, but our time, it just flew. We both know it.

“I am still buying you dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

And with that, we danced one more song, and we had our dinner. At our cars, we said goodbye for the last time. I slammed the door to my car, put the keys in the ignition, openned Spotify, found the singer of the song I danced with Jon and heard her singing talking about leaving, loving and surviving, and everything in between. I was content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the songs are One and Only (the one Jon and Dany dance) and Love in the Dark (Dany's Spotify), by Adele.


	2. Jon I - I will wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this chapter a bit earlier than I'd expected, so here it is!

I have to admit: I come here often. Something about that night, about her makes me return over and over again. She drifts in and out of my mind so much, especially lately. It has been five weeks since I walked away from her, leaving her in the arms of Drogo. A man who had no idea what he held in his hands.

If Tourmund knew what I did, if he knew that I came to this restaurant at least twice a week in search of her, just to catch a glimpse, he would never let me live this down. My heart knows she is with another man, but my gut tells me that she felt the same thing I did that night.

It was primal, it was like second nature. I needed to talk to her, I needed to hear her voice.

Before I spoke to her about the napkins, which granted was not the smoothest pick up line, I just simply looked at her. She was beautiful and elegant, but it was the way she spoke to the bartender. Thanking him for pouring her glass of wine. The way she smiled at him, and the way she looked at the clock more than twice a minute. And then she tucked the errant strands of her silver blond hair behind her ear. It was a simple gesture, but it brought me closer to her. It was just everything about her. The dress, the hair, her being, her grace.

Talking to her that night, the ease at which we switched from being strangers to friends, it was unlike anything I have ever experienced. Her words, her voice encapsulated me, wrapped me up, shipped me off to a place where the only thing I needed or wanted was this woman in front of me. It wasn’t one thing that made me fall, it was anything she did, or said. And I fell quickly.

I asked her to dance with me, and the look on her face almost broke me. It reminded me of the look a child gets when they know they shouldn’t do something, but the temptation is too great. They know they will be punished, but they want it so bad, they can’t fight it.

She didn’t fight it, she reached out to me more than one way that night. Grabbing my hand, letting me lead her out there and when she put her arms around me, she enveloped me. A cocoon of grace and beauty, of life and love, and laughter and joy.

When Drogo interrupted, I could still feel her. She was no longer in my arms, but I swear I can still feel her sometimes. Late at night, sitting in front of the television trying to concentrate on the Night’s Watch hockey game, I find myself thinking of her. I haven’t finished a game since that night.

I sit here for a different reason tonight. It is merely coincidence that I am here on a Thursday night. Tormund set me up with Ygritte a week ago. We had lunch and she was nice enough, so I asked her out to dinner. She suggested this place. Part of me wanted to skip this little venture. The other part, the more powerful or some would say, the weaker part of me decided to give this place another shot. Daenerys was the catalyst to that decision. It’s funny, I just know her by Daenerys, but I have already been imagining my days and nights with her. I decided that it would be better if I channeled some of this attention on Ygritte. I offered to pick her up, she wanted to meet me here. So, I sit here, early as usual.

Nursing my beer, I look at the napkin in front of me, and I swear I never thought I would be giddy over napkins. But the thought of her takes over my senses, I have no control. I realize I have to get over all of this, put it behind me, move ahead. Become that man who had an idea of where his life was going. Since that night, I have become utterly obsessed with this woman who opened me up like never before.

“I told you the napkins were nice.”

There it is, her voice. Sweet, melodic, like she is singing a piece of music. And it is music to my ears, the way it travels beating on the drum, a rhythm tapping into my brain, saying  _ she’s the one, she’s the one, she’s the one _ .

Turning my head, I am met with that smile. It can light up a room and it can tear down walls and it will lift you up and it breaks your heart.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She is like a breath of fresh air. Black pants, heels that lengthen those already criminally gorgeous legs, and a red shirt, form fitting. I can tell as before that this woman certainly takes care of herself. But it is her smile and those eyes and the way her hair hangs in her eyes for just a split second before she scoops it once more behind her ears. 

Both of us more casual than before, I am in black pants, and a gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. We seem to both be more comfortable dressed down. But I am afraid that the conversation might not be so casual this time.

“How have you been?” I ask with a small amount of trepidation. I want her to say great. I want her life to be perfect, to be happy. But there is a little piece of me, the vile disgusting man part of me that hopes she says that she has been heartbroken. That she has searched for me, like I have searched for her.

“I am doing well. Thanks for asking. And you?” Oh, I am great. Just fine and dandy.

“Couldn’t be better.” And for a split second, I think I see the same look. The one that lets me know that all of this is just as awkward and strangely exhilarating. And that maybe a little piece of her wanted me to say how miserable I have been.

I don’t know if it was the moment or if I finally gave into the sensation that she was here, but I smiled. I absolutely and without a doubt smiled at her and in a glance the dimples came out. Her whole face lit up with that smile, and it reached her eyes, the deep golden blue that held mystery. But behind the mystery there was an innocence, and in my estimation all things good and perfect came from her soul.

And the door opened and we walked through it. The words flowing from our mouths freely and at will. I mentioned the Night’s Watch hockey team and she said that she had never been to a hockey game, being a Southern girl and not much snow around, but that she always wanted to go. We spoke about the consumption of way too many hot dogs. Seriously, Hot Pie, the hot dog vendor, knew his stuff. She mentioned the gym, and how it had just opened down the street from her apartment. I told her that I went to the Essossi restaurant on Aegon’s Hill and that she was right. It was good and it reminded me of The Dragons, in Meereen. Speaking of far away places, she had just flown in from Winter Town the night before. She said it reminded her of me. The simple sentence catching me off guard that she had thought of me, made my heart jump into my throat.

I decided to ask the question that filled my heart with dread. It was fantastic how one word seemed so unbelievably evil to me.

“How’s Drogo?”. She turned silent and serious.

“I imagine he is doing okay. I really wouldn’t know.” And there it was. My eyes betrayed me asking silently the questions I could not form. She noticed, she understood because she continued.

“We broke up.” I know she is waiting for me to say something, because her lips are slightly apart like she is begging for her next breath.

“Daenerys....” And before I can finish the sentence I had practiced for the past five weeks, but before it can roll it out of my tongue, Ygritte or fate decided that it was the appropriate time to come careening into our lives.

“Hey, am I late?” In my head, I am screaming, you are early. But I have to remind myself that Ygritte is just another piece of the ever irritating puzzle we have become.

“No, you are fine. Ygritte, this is Daenerys, she is a friend of mine. Daenerys, this is Ygritte.” The women, both refined and polite actually smile at one another, shaking hands and exchanging hellos.

“Are you ready, Jon?” Ygritte just busted right up into the situation, where she rightfully belongs, but destiny decided to play a little Braavosi Roulette with all of us tonight.

“Aye.” Turning to Daenerys, I give her a look she can only see. It is one of longing and frustration at an otherwise amazing twist.

“It was really nice to see you again, Jon.” Ever the diplomat, she makes it easier on everyone and says the safe thing. Me, on the other hand, I want to grab her and kiss her in front of the Gods, Ygritte, the woman with the scotch and everyone else.

“It was great to see you too. Bye, Daenerys.” And with that, I turn and walk away from her once again.

She stayed at the bar, while we were seated. I spoke to Ygritte, concentrating on the conversation, all the while wishing I was back up at the bar. Ygritte finished telling me the third story about her day as a firefighter and then excused herself to the ladies room.

I looked to the bar, and Daenerys threw up her hand, not really a wave, just merely a way to say hello. She took the last sip of her wine, and threw her money on the bar. She said something to the bartender, handed him something and turned around, looked at me once more and walked out of the door.

The whole time, I was just sitting at this table, glued while my future just floated away from me, the second time. There was no Drogo, there was nothing standing in my way except a nice woman named Ygritte who had no idea that she just impeded my second chance at the woman of my dreams.

The waiter returned to the table and I told him that we would wait to order. He simply handed me a bottle of wine, compliments from a young lady at the bar.

He handed me a napkin as well and walked away. The napkin was folded in half, and I opened it.

It had a phone number and a simple sentence.

_ I will wait. _

I tucked the napkin away in my pocket, just as Ygritte returned. I decided that Ygritte and I needed to get some things out in the open, right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming to post a new update within a week. This is a short fic, nothing too long, just inner musings of people who are destined to be together.


	3. Dany II - I can’t wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long for an update. Life kinda got in the way. But I've outlined the story and there's 3 more chapters than originally thought. 
> 
> Enjoy!

I left the restaurant scared to death, that he wouldn’t call, that I was being too bold. Driving home, the King’s Landing streets are littered with couples full of love and those unfortunate souls whose dreams have been dashed and destroyed. Everyone walks the same streets, drives the same roads on their way home.

The ride is quiet, the radio has gone silent. The traffic lights sense my uneasiness as they turn green at my approach, allowing me a quick retreat to my place of comfort. Emotions turning over in my body, as I think of the implications of one little note.

I am not usually that forward, that confident, but it was something in the way he looked at me. It was in his body and his smile, and the way he spoke to me. His words washing over like a summer rain. And I knew that if I walked away from this man that I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Those two little words asked a question while stating my answer. They held grace and infatuation. They held joy and most of all truth. I will wait for him, and yes that gives him an unbelievable amount of power, but I would be lying if I said he doesn’t already have it. He held that power from the first moment I looked at him, from the moment I heard him laugh. And Gods help me, I want to hear that laughter for the rest of my life. Because he is happy incarnate.

There is no easy way to describe the feeling you have when you know you have met the one. Two meetings and no date, and I would gladly give him all of me. He intrigues me, he beguiles me, he confuses me, and he calms me. He took my world and turned it completely upside down.

The first time he touched me, I almost buckled underneath the intensity. The first time he held me in his arms, I knew that is exactly where I was supposed to be. Right there, and often. He didn’t destroy what Drogo and I had. He just mapped out the journey I was so blindly searching for. A light from heaven blessed its way down to the earth that night, and it highlighted its angel.

For five weeks, I have been packing up the past, moving it out and pressing forward. Thinking about him each step of the way, wandering by Hot Pie’s hot dog stand at least two times a day. There are the countless nights I spent wandering in and out of the Essossi restaurant on Aegon’s Hill. I still cannot remember the name of that place.

And then there are the nights that I have been to our bar. Wishing and hoping that I picked the night he would be there. Hunting for a man, named Jon, a man who loves Essossi food, and dancing, and making me laugh.

Five weeks, I have thought of nothing else aside from banking and Jon. And sometimes Jon made his way right through the talks about loan interests and stocks and bonds. And he would be right there, smile and all, and it was all I could do to finish the day.

Tonight, walking into the bar and seeing him again for the first time in 35 days, I was reminded just why he possessed my thoughts. Black pants, gray shirt that made his eyes pop, sleeves pushed up, and his forearms alone made me weak. The beard accentuated that strong jaw, along with those eyes and the tied hair that was begging me to run my hands through it after taking it out of its knot. He was completely gorgeous. I knew at that moment, that this was my chance. This was the chance of my lifetime.

He was deep in thought, and then I saw a grin slide over his lips, while he played with his napkin. And I wondered if he was thinking about our first meeting. So I spoke to him.

Thinking there would be no better sight that when I first walked in the door, I was wrong. Because a foot away from me, staring right back at me, was the Gods send. I knew, I just knew that he would be everything that I could possibly need. He would be the rain on the desert of my life. He would be the warmth on those cold nights. He would be the light in the darkest times. He would be the love that I had been waiting for.

We talked about nothing and everything, but it was sweet and fun. It was light and lovable. It was calming and beautiful. I knew he wanted to ask, and I wanted to tell him, but even with the ease of our conversation, we were both afraid.

And then he just spoke the words. And I told him what he wanted to hear. All was right with the world. Tonight was the night that all of the dancing around love ceased.

Then she walked up. Ygritte, the name emblazoned on my heart. I knew I had no right, I knew that it was not justified, but I was insanely and completely, without a doubt, jealous. I wanted to slip my arm through his, mark my territory, but in all actuality he was not mine to defend.

So, when his eyes met mine and we said goodbye, I knew that I had to rectify the situation. I stayed, like a voyeur, I sat watching the scene with wonderment. He didn’t look at her the way he looked at me. And she didn’t watch him, the way I watched him. She didn’t appreciate the way the lights catch the gray in his eyes or the way his lip curls a little right before you see the full blown smile. And he has a million different smiles and they all mean millions of different things. She didn’t see the way he fidgets, unable to just be still. And she didn’t know what the wrinkles on his forehead meant, and I have to admit that neither do I, but I would give anything to find out.

Pulling into my apartment complex, it is early, almost nine. The night is young, but I have no reason to be out. I am just going to unlock my door, grab another glass of wine, open the patio door, listen to the waves, and wait. I told him I would.

The phone rings and to my astonishment I cannot breathe. Practically running to the phone, I look at the caller ID and realize that it is just Missandei. She asks about my day, tells me the latest on a man I haven’t met yet, and her obvious bad taste in men. I tell her she just hasn’t found the right one. I haven’t even told her about Jon yet. He is just for me right now. Introductions are not necessary especially when they are just in theory. She gives me the 35th speech on not having a life, and not moving on from Drogo. Oh, if she only knew. She chides me for being home on a Thursday night, alone. I tell her that she is home alone as well. She precedes to say things that I am sure she will have to get forgiveness for on Sunday morning, and we say our I love you’s and she hangs up.

As I turn towards the open door and my glass of wine, the phone rings again. Picking it up without looking and with no hesitation I speak.

“Seriously, let it go.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

I nearly drop the phone. Realization that it is not Missandei, but Jon, I am excited and nervous all at the same time.

“Sorry, I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“You know what I mean.”

And the way we have started this conversation is just a testament to the level of familiarity that he gives me. I can hear him smiling through the phone.

“I wondered if you would call.” I did wonder. I was hoping, but I had no idea that he would call me tonight and only an hour after I left the bar.

“Well, I had to call and thank you for the wine. Besides, I couldn’t keep you waiting long. So, when Ygritte returned to the table, I told her a story.”

My heart just lifts hearing his voice, but I am trying to keep my voice steady even though I am shaking with excitement.

“What was the story about?” I am really anxious to hear this. I am pretty sure that I cannot remember how to breathe properly.

“It was about this man, who met this woman, someone he couldn’t have, but that he couldn’t stop thinking about either. And he needed to see her, and he needed to hear her voice, and he needed to hold her in his arms again. Then one night, she came crashing back into his life, and suddenly he had his chance, the slightest chance that he could have her.”

I swallow my heart, the one that just leapt into my throat, and I catch the one tiny tear that escaped. I cannot find the words.

“Good story.”

“Thanks. And then I told her how very nice it was to meet her, but that it would be disrespectful to her if I made her believe that our dinner was anything other than dinner.”

There is a small part of me that is jumping up and down on my bed like a silly teenager. The other part of me, the woman in me has suddenly gone mad with anticipation.

He breaks the silence, his voice slicing through it, its cadence and timbre calming and loving.

“Daenerys?”

“Yeah?”

“What is your last name?”

“Targaryen .”

“Okay. Daenerys Targaryen , my name is Jon Snow.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

And I think that this is possibly the best conversation I have ever had, followed closely by the first time I met him, and early tonight at the bar.

“Dany, would you mind if I called you up some time and asked you to dinner?”

Giddy, yeah, that is the word for it. I am giddy.

“That would be quite lovely actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

This man who yields such confidence just became the young man who asks the girl he is crushing on to the high school dance. He is relieved and surprised.

“Dany?”

Only my close friends call me Dany, and right now, he falls under that category. Normally, I wouldn’t like someone taking the liberty, but he can take all of the liberties he wants.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” And there it is. The question I have wanted and waited for.

“I had planned on sitting at home waiting on a phone call from this amazing man that I recently met.”

There is a slight chuckle on the other end, and the nervousness is coupled with excitement and happiness.

“I see. Well, at the risk of being rude and inconsiderate, I was wondering if you would want to join me for dinner. I know it's last minute and I know that you could have plans, but Dany, I would love to have your company tomorrow night. More than anything.”

Sold, lock, stock and barrel. Fun aside, I realize that Jon just laid himself bare, feelings and all. So I reciprocate. Because Gods know I have wanted this to happen from that first night.

“I would love to have dinner with you, Jon.” He sighs, the man actually sighs and my heart is fighting a battle it's not going to win.

“Thank you, Dany.” Yeah, I am gone. “Is six, okay?” Seven hells, yeah, it’s okay.

“Six is perfect.”

“Great, so where do you live?” I giggle, realizing that we almost forgot an important step. We were both so nervous, we didn’t discuss anything else pertinent.

I give him the address and then I go through my closet in my head, already deciding the number of outfits I will need to try on.

We talk about small things, inconsequential things that really do become important to me, just because I am sharing these words with him.

Two hours later, and a thousand little chuckles and giggles, and absolute swoons from me, he politely closes the conversation.

He apologizes for keeping me on the phone for so long, but says he will not apologize for having such a great time.

We say our goodbyes, and just as I am about to hang up the phone, he speaks one last time.

“Dany. I just wanted to say that when tomorrow night is over, I am going to call you up as soon as I get home. I am going to ask you out again. And every night after that. I just wanted you to know that, so be ready.”

My heart just stopped. And I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I can’t wait.”


	4. Jon II - Good to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new update has come! Enjoy

The longest day in recorded history was today, no doubt about it. I barely slept last night. My nerves hitting registers I wasn’t aware of. I am not nervous, I am extremely excited. Well, okay, maybe I am a little nervous.

This is Dany, finally. After five weeks of dreaming about this mysterious woman who caught my eye and captured my heart from the start, she has agreed to have dinner with me. I am a complete wreck.

I have never in my life been so totally unhinged. She does this to me. She takes a cool, collected man in his late twenties and turns him into a bumbling, scared greenboy. She doesn’t realize it though. Last night, calling her, I was so nervous, so unaware of how to start the conversation, how to go about asking the question I desperately wanted to for over a month now. But her talent, her grace in all of this is how she takes me from a man to a boy and then turns me right back into a man again. And she will do all of this in a span of a minute or less. The moment she opens her mouth, I know that there is no where else I want to be, no place that calls for me like her, nobody that entices me the way she does.

We have spent about two hours in each other’s presence total and two hours on the phone, and already I would tell the world that I am hers. It’s crazy, I know. To fall for someone this quickly, this intensely, is ridiculous. There is just something about her, it was instant and so much more intense than anything I have ever known.

So last night when she accepted my dinner invitation, I knew that I would be a better man for it. It's not even something I think about, it is something instinctual. I just know that she will change who I am, who I become, the final outcome of my life will be in direct correlation to her presence in my life.

If I am really being honest, the last five weeks of my life have been in direct correlation to her absence from my life, so assuming the opposite is true is customary. Tormund says it’s crazy. He knows about my mystery woman, and it is my own fault for giving him ammo for the next fifty years of my life. Well, if it's crazy, wrap me up in the insanity. I will bear its burden, because she is worth it.

Before I stepped out of my house, I made a mental checklist, the flowers, the playlist on Spotify, and the directions to her apartment on Waze. Dressed in my favorite black suit, I am comfortable and hopeful.

On the drive over here, I gave myself forty-seven different speeches on being myself. That is who she met the first night, who she approached the second night, the guy she talked with for over two hours on the phone last night. I don’t need to be anyone other than myself tonight. And sometimes, it is the hardest thing to accomplish. To just lay yourself out there, to let someone see you, the real you. Because it opens up the door to rejection and pain, and self-loathing. However, with Dany, she looks at me, and I know that those things won’t come for us. It is frightening and soothing at the same time, to realize that a woman you barely know, seems like the only person you really truly know. She is already the only woman I ever want to know.

Opening the door to my car seems hard, but getting myself to walk is an entirely different type of difficult. But the closer I get to her door, the harder it is not to break out in a run, and knock nervously on the door until she relents and gives pity to this poor heart of mine.

Knocking on the door, I notice how incredibly close we are to the beach. I have always loved the beach, and the night air mingled with the ocean breeze seems to calm me down a bit more. I know it sounds corny, but when she opens the door, it is just like in the movies. Slow motion and all, paired with awe-inspiring and breathtaking, I am bowled over by her smile. She is a picture of perfection. Her hair framing her portrait-like face, eyes bright, smile brighter, and her dress is absolutely stunning. It is simple, yet on her, it is a work of art. A dark shade of red with thin little straps that show just how well she takes care of herself. This woman is gorgeous and I am her date for the night. I am a very lucky man and I know it.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Both of us grinning like idiots, we stay at the door looking at one another for what seems like minutes, before I present the obvious and hand her the flowers.

“These are for you.” And that smile gets even bigger.

“Thank you. Winter roses are my favorite.” I have to admit I took a chance. Seeing the look on her face, I know she isn’t lying. Winter roses are her favorite, and if it's possible, I think that both of us are smiling and it is way out of control.

I was holding my breath, because a whoosh of air escapes.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She opens the door a little wider.

“Come in, let me put these in some water and then we can go.”

“Okay.” She leaves the door for me to close, and I step in to her den, not bothering to go any further, being a gentleman, even though I am curious to know more about this beautiful woman. She makes her way into what I can only guess is the kitchen. She asks me if I had any trouble finding the place, and I tell her waze got me here in no time.

Glancing at the room, I am captivated by every nuance. She apparently loves to read, for there are two rather large bookcases in the corner. There is a fireplace, and a television, beside it is her DVD collection, and just from here I can tell she loves classic, romantic movies. She has a few pictures on the table in front of her couch. I am guessing the one on the left is her parents, both beautiful people. And then there is a picture of her and two others, a man and a woman. Friends of hers I am guessing. People I hope to meet, because in the picture she looks happy and content. I am thinking that anyone who makes her feel that way is going to be a friend of mine.

The glass doors in the back of the room give me a view of the waters outside. And I imagine that this is beautiful in the morning, but I am not even going there. Not the time or the place for that. However, it is still nice to know that right outside is the sand and the beach and the water. Everything about her life so far is something I want in mine.

During my little inquiry of her room, she asked me about my day, and I guided the same question back to her. Our answers were curiously the same, very long. I don’t think I am the only one excited about tonight.

When she comes back out of the kitchen, holding the vase and the flowers, she quickly walks to what is the perfect place for them, right between her pictures. She steps back from the table, admiring them, her work. And I don’t know if it is the light or her or the flowers or the night, or all of them combined but I say the word before I even know it.

“Beautiful.”

She turns to me, and her cheeks blush, and her smile is gorgeous and radiant. I don’t think she was sure exactly what I meant, but I have a feeling I know what she wanted it to mean. So I clarify.

“You are so beautiful.”

And her head dips down, and she fiddles with her hands, and when she glances back up and her eyes are barely noticible. 

“Thank you.” But she shakes her head, embarrassed by the compliment and suddenly I think that maybe she hasn’t been complimented enough. That somehow she doesn’t know that she is in fact beautiful and graceful. I promise myself right then and there, that I will remind her everyday that I know her, just how amazing she really is.

“You ready to go?” I ask her, anxious to start what has only been a dream up until now. But then I realize that we have already started this dream, I just want to continue it with a little food in my system. Otherwise I think I am going to pass out because I feel this overwhelming wave of happiness.

“Yeah.” She walks over to her purse and her wrap, picking them both up, and walking back over to me, I follow her to the door. She locks the door behind us as we both step outside, and I wait on the first step. And when she turns, I hold my hand out to her, desperately wanting to feel her hand in mine. She takes it, and at that moment, I think that it is the sexiest thing so far tonight. Just her holding my hand, walking to my car, and beginning what will no doubt be the best night of my life thus far.

In the car, the small talk continues, little tidbits about the week, and our upcoming projects at work. We pass the movie theater and she mentions a couple of films she has been wanting to catch. I make a mental note of those. We pass the arena where the Night’s Watch play and she asks about how they are doing.

“We’ve had better years, but we still have some great games coming up. Actually, they are in town Monday night.”

“Yeah, they play the Blackwaters.”

My face registers surprise and she just gives me a wink. And if it is possible, I think that this woman just became more desirable to me.

“Impressive. But the most important question, are you going to be in town Monday night?” And before our first date is even over, I am basically asking her out on the second or third, depending on what she is doing the remainder of the weekend.

“As a matter-of-fact, I am.”

“Good to know.”

And we let that lie for now, as we pull into The Dragon’s the Meereen restaurant she loves so much, and one that has become my favorite new place. She grins, as I ask her if this is okay. It’s great, she says, and I love that she seems to just be having fun.

There are women who you know that you have to impress, but then there are women who you love to impress, and then there are women who you impress when you don’t even try. Dany is a combination of the last two. She makes me want to do things I never wanted to do, things I never thought I could, but she also makes it so easy. Looking at her, as we exit the car, and once again, her hand is resting in mine, I know that she wants to be here just as much as I do.


	5. Dany III - So, fairytales do come true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new update for the weekend! I just wanted to say that I took creative liberties to come up with their parents. There is no family relation, R+L doesn't equal J, there is no incest either. Pretty regular, boring stuff. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it!

There are moments in your life that you can’t define. Moments that take you by surprise, that make you believe in fairytales and happy ever afters. Seconds in an eternity of mother nature’s breaths that give you a profound peace.

There are treasures that the Gods set before you, and they pray that his children will have the wisdom to first allow themselves to see them. And second, to appreciate them and give them meaning.

Opening the door tonight was one of those moments, and what was waiting for me on the other side was one of his treasures. Regardless of who walked through that door first, we both allowed ourselves to understand, to see, to be seen. I like to think that we both walked through the door together. There were obstacles to be removed, but he and I, we just knew. So, Gods in all of their glory worked their magic, and what some call providence and others call fate, became the beginning of our story.

First dates can evoke a number of different emotions. Fear, excitement, wonder, nervousness, happiness, all of these things and more can occur. And I have went through every one of them and that was just in the first five seconds. But I have run the gamut of those feelings over and over again since we walked out of my apartment.

Excitement and contentment are running neck and neck right now as he leads me to the restaurant, his hand in mine.

His hand leaves mine only to open the door for me. Inside, reservations are waiting, and we are seated. Sitting across from him is surreal. Nervousness hits me again, because I can’t help but think that five weeks of dreaming of this, that somehow it won’t live up to the fantasies.

Discussion of what we should order quickly finds it way to chicken which leads us to farms and how he grew up on a state in Winterfell. I knew he was from there, but I didn’t not know he grew up on a family’s state. And so the fantasies find themselves being replaced by the present with each bit of information that we swap, and I find that the reality is so much better than the fantasy. We talk about our childhood, our friends, and how he went from Winterfell to King’s Landing.

“So, my father was on a business trip to Winterfell, and my mother was in the city with some friends and they bumped into each other at a flower stand. And that was it, they have been together ever since. He flew there all of the time for his clients, so they saw each other at least four times a month. Six months into the relationship, he was transferred to offices there. The relationship only got stronger from there, and they married. Two years later, they had me, and five years after that, we moved back to King’s Landing.”

Hearing the way his parents met made him even more interesting to me. He shared so much of his family, himself with me, it was flattering. That he opened up so much with me so quickly. And besides, it was a great story.

“So, fairytales do come true.”

“I guess they do.” And the way he says it, I can only imagine his meaning. He is looking at me like no one else ever has. Its intense, but then it turns into this smile that I am sure was sent from heaven. I nod in agreement, and he reaches across the table and takes my hand.

“What about your parents? How did they meet?

“Well, it wasn’t as star-crossed as your parents, but they have a pretty good story.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“My mother and father are both doctors.” His eyes ask the question, and I answer quickly.

“Yes, they wanted me to be a doctor, but I think they have finally accepted that a doctor’s life was not for me. But that’s another story for later. So, my father was working at The Citadel Hospital in the Oncology ward, when my mother was given a position alongside him. They automatically hated one another. Could not get along to save their lives. They were bickering and fighting, except when it came to the patients. They worked so well as a team. They were the best and everyone knew it. And one night, my mom said that it was after a big fight. She said it was stupid, it was about something small, inconsequential even. She said that they had just finished screaming at one another, and it was quiet. And he crossed the room and he kissed her.”

“And they haven’t fought since?” He asks me, with just a bit of humor in his voice.

“Oh, no they fight, but they make up very well. I think I was the result of a fight over some turkey. Don’t ask.” He shares a smile with me. I realize that I have never told anyone that story.

The food was the best it has ever been and the wine was a very good year, and the way he looks by candlelight is almost as good as seeing him standing in my den.

We are quiet for a few moments, just relishing in the idea that we are both here, together. There are going to be no interruptions, no one to take the other away. His fingers glide over the back of my hands and without breaking contact he stands and pulls me up with him.

“Dance with me.” He has said it before, but now it is different. There is no playfulness, just something deep and guttural. Its longing and a little bit of desire. And he leans in, pulling me closer, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. My eyes adjust to the closeness as I look at him, and back at his lips. Focusing on speaking is what my mind is working on right now.

One hand still in mine, the other finds its way to my waist, and mine comes up to rest on his chest.

“Yes.”

And with that, we break apart slightly, as he turns towards the dance floor, never letting go of my hand. I can feel the heat radiating from him as we maneuver through the crowd, and I take another step drawing myself closer to him. We find our spot, turning to me, as he draws me to him. Hand still in mine, he holds me as if he is afraid someone might take me away. He cradles my hand to his chest and his right hand finds its home on my waist like before, and then slowly and surely, he wraps me up. I am no longer content to merely rest my hand on his shoulder either, and before I know it, I am pressed up against him, arm snaked around his neck.

The way we fit, it goes perfectly with the rest of my realizations about tonight, that life cannot possibly be this good. I have always loved to dance. Previous men in my life had found it unnecessary to appease that little hobby of mine. I find it amusing that the one night that Drogo had agreed to go dancing was the night that I met Jon.

We move flawlessly and gracefully. It's easy. Like this entire date. It's easy and fun, and it begs for more just like it.

Holding on to each other, we lose ourselves in the music. We make little or no conversation, and somehow that is perfect too.

And as the music comes to an end, I am certain I can still hear the strains of a ballad, sung by two hearts who just met. But they sing with a confidence that can only be found in those who have known each other forever.

It is a whisper, possibly on a breath, but I hear it.

“You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

So, we leave the restaurant the way that we entered, hand in hand.

He tells me that our next stop is a surprise. I admit that I love surprises, but coming from him, I am about to burst. This date gets better and better. As a young girl, you had those “dream” dates that you mapped out in your mind. Things you would say, places you would go, the person you would be with. This is that dream date. Everything is just as I had imagined it would be and when we get to the observatory, I find that I am even more intrigued by this man.

It's dark and the sky hangs low for us tonight. The moon is full, the stars are in bloom, and the air is light and breezy. He never leaves me for long, just long enough to jog around the car. He opens the door even though I am already halfway out, and grabs my hand. He knows that he doesn’t have to open the door, but he does anyway, and I find that extremely attractive. Anchored to me, we walk up to the main deck, and look out over the city.

The lights are bright and the night seems like day with everything all a glow. It is one of the most beautiful locations in King’s Landing, and the fact that I am up here on one of the best nights of my life makes everything seem so much more important. We stand at the rail, admiring the view, until his brilliant voice cuts through the night.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the lights that illuminate a normally dismal illusion of sin and sadness. Tonight they seem to carry forgiveness and transformation, or maybe that is wishful thinking from a woman who has all the hope in the world right now.

“When I was growing up, my dad and I would take these fishing trips. We would go to the same river every few months. It was some of the best memories I have. And one of those trips, I guess I must have been thirteen at the time, he was giving me advice about life and love. I think my mother had told him that we needed to have the father and son talk.”

He sneaks a peek at me, and I giggle along with him, because we all remember what that was like.

“Anyway, my dad decided the best time to bring this up would be when we were knee deep in river water. He stumbled over the words, trying to say the right thing. And really, what is the right thing in that situation. I think it is different for all of us. But he tried so hard, and he did that because my mother asked him to. He was literally sweating out there, and I was embarrassed and so was he. It was then that he told me what I have never forgotten to this day. He said.” _ Jon, the only way I can think to describe love is this. You know you love her, that its real, when you will do anything to make her happy. And if you love her and she loves you, it will make you a better man, she will make you feel like you can do things you never thought possible. She will find you, she will make you feel whole, she will show you the way. One day, Jon, she will find you and you will know. It will be immediate. And you know that if she ever leaves you, you will know why rivers run to a place far away.” _

The entire time he was speaking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. And when he finished, all I wanted to know about him was everything and anything. I wanted to believe in all things impossible. I just wanted to stay wherever he was going to be.

“You are amazing.” His head snaps around, looking at me, and I know that I see a mirror image of what I am feeling. But that shy little boy comes out again as he dips his head, but then decides to look at me once more.

“Well, you know my dad deserves some credit, he said it.”

“I haven’t met your father, and I am sure that he is brilliant, but I have met you, and you are amazing.”

I am overwhelmed at the sight of this man, holding my hand, here on this night. Couple that with all of the feelings that I have, the way all of this came together, and you get a woman on the verge of falling. I don’t hesitate at all as I envelope him in a hug. Arms around his neck, head in the hollow of his throat. I am in his arms, and it is the most perfect feeling in the world. He pulls away only slightly until we are face to face.

It is devilishly slow, and tempting and taunting as he moves forward only slightly.

“Dany?”

“Yeah?” I can barely speak, this man takes my breath.

“I finally understand what my dad was talking about.”

And with that he closes the distance and I close my eyes.


	6. Jon III - You found me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are more than halfway done already!

Have you ever had a moment that was so profound, so incredibly glorious that you knew that everything in your life led up to this one piece of history? Everything you had done, fought for, went through came together and it just made perfect sense. And all of the sacrifices that you made didn’t seem like sacrifices at all. The days you bled heartaches and sadness just disappeared. The hole in your heart was filled to capacity by this unknown force, and it overflowed until it flooded your soul, your mind, and your body.

All you wanted to do was put that feeling in a bottle and keep it there. So, when the world stripped you bare of love and battered your heart, you could open that bottle and take a little bit of grace.

This is my moment.

Right now.

Right here with Dany.

Her lips are on mine, and she is everywhere. Her hands are in my hair. Her hair flits over us both, forming a barrier against the outside world. She breaths for me over and over.

My eyes are closed, but I can see her plainly. She is right there in my mind’s eye. She is slow and methodical. She is frenzied and passionate. A shiver runs throughout my body. I realize that I am too lost in her, so much so that I don’t care to be found. The first kiss is everything it should be, everything you want it to be. I disappear into her, so deep that I know that I will not come back the same man. And just when I think that my senses cannot possibly take anymore, at the point where my body is screaming for air, the kiss turns lazy, until we break slowly, agonizingly slow.

Both of us hanging on for dear life, faces flushed, breathing deeply, her forehead rests against mine. I am not brave enough to look in her eyes yet, because I am afraid that I will forget all of the things my father taught me about being a gentleman.

It’s almost too much for the both of us. I know it affected her just as much as it did me, because the hands that are resting in my hair, on my neck, they circle my shoulders and she draws herself closer to me. And right here above the lights of King’s Landing and below the lights of heaven, she simply holds me. She is so close, closer than she has been all night, and all I know is that I never want to let her go. This is where she is supposed to be. I am sure of it.

When she pulls back, I am blinded by her smile. By the absolute beauty of this woman here with me in my arms. I am sure that I am grinning like an idiot, but I have no qualms about showing this woman just how lovesick I am already.

“Hey.” The woman kisses me like I have never kissed before and she says hey. I giggle, yes, I giggle like a schoolgirl. If Sam could hear me now. There would be no living this down.

She grabs onto my coat, pulling me closer, and laughing the entire time.

“Hey yourself.” And I kiss her again and again. Until I can no longer remember a time when she wasn’t in my life.

Minutes or hours later, I don’t even know, we stumble out of our bliss. And before I forget myself, we decide that right now would be a good time to take her home. On the drive back, she holds my hand, daring not to let it go. But I don’t blame her. I want to hold onto this night for as long as I can. I feel that if I let her go, if I can’t touch her, it will all end, this fairytale of a night.

Walking up to her door, I decide that there has never been a better first date in the history of mankind. Dany has driven feelings to the surface I never knew I had, and of course the male ego inside is bursting with pride at the obvious feelings I have drummed up in her. But more than anything, I care about this woman. I respect her more than I have any other woman I have ever met. So, as she is inserts the key, unlocking the door, I can’t help but think that is not the only key she used tonight. She was the key that unlocked my heart. I wait at the bottom of the steps and she pushes the door open enough for the light to filter out onto us.

“I had a great time, Dany.”

“Me too.” I see a smile slide onto her face. She appreciates the gesture, to not invade, to not take things too fast, even though the hour at the observatory was not exactly taking it slow.

“Jon, tonight was....”

“I know.”

I don’t say it with pride or as a braggart. I say it with every bit of honesty that I have. I know what she is feeling. I felt it in her apartment earlier, at the restaurant, on the dance floor, and at the observatory. We felt everything together.

“So what are you doing tomorrow night?” My heart leaps as she asks the question that was actually on the tip of my tongue. I don’t know what protocol is these days. Who is suppose to ask who? What is the appropriate time between dates? I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. And neither does Dany apparently. Why stand on ceremony when you know what you have is like nothing you ever known? We both know. It’s that simple. So I answer her.

“Whatever you’re doing.” That smile just kills me again, lighting me up.

“How about I make you dinner? Does that sound good? We can watch a movie, or whatever.”

All seriousness aside, I am very interested in the whatever part of that statement.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Yep, it is bad when two fairly intelligent human beings are reduced to one word answers. But it is one of the most productive conversations of my life.

I linger probably longer than I should, but there is something about walking away from her tonight that scares me. I think it is the fear that I am going to wake up and realize that none of this is real, that she is a figment of my imagination.

“How does six sound?”

“It sounds great.”

“Alright then.”

“Yeah, well, I better get going. Thank you, Dany.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did.”

“What? What did I do?”

“You found me.”

And suddenly, both of us are serious and still. It is a look that I could not have scripted any better. Because it said everything we knew we shouldn’t say, but everything that we knew we wanted to say.

I take a step up until I am even with her, brown on blue.

“Goodnight, Dany.”

And with that, I kiss her lightly once and then once more. It is quick and soft. And she knows now. She knows how weak I am, how taken I am, how difficult it is for me to speak.

She gives me a smile, and runs her hand through my hair once more.

“Goodnight, Jon.”

I hold onto her hand until we can’t stretch any further. I back away from her, not wanting to take my eyes off of her until I have to. She waits at the door until I finally make it to car and get in. She waves and then steps inside. My head falls forward and rests on the steering wheel. I take a deep breath.

And that is when I notice it. Her perfume, I think, flowers, or heaven. I am not sure, but it’s there. I like it. No, I love it.


	7. Dany IV -  I can’t get enough of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that I took a leap of liberty here and while Jon does have his original parents, they aren't related at all with the Targaryens. Jonerys are just a regular, boring, non incest couple. So, bare with me about their surnames.

The lights are low, the wine is dwindling, and I am just on this side of feeling good. There is music playing in the background, and I can see the waves crashing up on the shore as I lay here on my couch. One hand is thrown over my head as the book rests on my stomach. Blue pants and a white tank top, I am the picture of comfort. I think I have read the same sentence five times, and I can’t, for the life of me, remember what this story is about. I will tell you what I do remember.

I remember Jon in gray and black, with smiles and awkward visitors, and a bottle of wine and a note. I remember thinking that it was completely unlike me to make such a bold move, but I knew what Jon’s look told me that night. He told me that he was waiting for the right time, for the moment that the Drogos and the Ygrittes would just fade away. When all that would be left in the world would be the two of us, in the middle of a room with only the rest of our lives to live.

I remember our first date. I remember him in a black suit, looking extremely gorgeous. I remember Essossi food, dancing, and whispers. I can see him with the moon shining down on him, and a twinkle in his eye, telling me stories of his father. I can feel the way my body trembled as he kissed me the first time. I remember the way it felt to be with him at that moment. I can see the way he looked at me standing on my front step, accepting my dinner invitation.

I remember our second date. The moments waiting for him to arrive, the nervousness and utter joy. The moment I opened the door, he smiled and said hello, and then I was in his arms. I had been waiting all day for that. The way we sat down at my table, and ate, and talked for hours. The movie was forgotten as we spent the better part of the night talking to one another. We couldn’t get enough, learning who this other person was, what made them tick. I memorized every movement of his face, the way his forehead wrinkled and got a brooding look when he was telling me the first time he had his heart broken. I wanted to know everything about him. And the way he listened to me, the way he looked at me, like he was staring into my soul. 

Asking more questions, and I could see him filing them away for another day. How for the first time in the evening we were quiet. How his eyes connected with mine, and it was the most intense gaze I have ever witnessed. How he took my hand, led me to the patio of my house, and we danced without music. It was funny because I could hear the melody of something sweet, maybe that was a mixture of his breath and my heart. The way he kissed me, so sweet at first, and how it built into the most passionate kiss I had ever received. And it was filled with lust, and all things carnal. But more importantly, it was filled with the beginnings of love. Pulling back, cupping my face in his hands, he held all of me. He kissed my forehead, told me that he had the best time he could ever remember. And then he asked to see me the next day.

I remember seeing Jon Snow on Sunday. We had a picnic, took a walk along the beach, “watched” a movie, which to Jon means he gets to kiss me senseless. And as he left that night, he told me he had tickets to the Night’s Watch game if I wanted to go. So, that Monday night, I went to my first hockey game, and I watched this man. He explained the game to me, one tidbit at a time. I remember it being so loud in the arena, and how he would have lean in to speak to me, and I thanked God for all of the rules of hockey. I can feel the desperation of his kisses as he said goodbye to me on Monday night. For Tuesday, I was flying out to Astapor. He told me to call him as soon as I could. I remember that I called him when I got to my hotel room. I had to change my calling plan after that trip. We talked everyday, and when I got off of the plane, he was waiting at the gate. I remember that night, he didn’t go home.

I remember waking up to gray eyes, bed curly hair, and his smile. Disregarding morning breath, he reminded me just why I only had two hours of sleep that night, total. I loved the way we stood in my kitchen, cooking breakfast at one o’clock in the afternoon. The hour I waited for him to return after our shower and his quick trip to his home. I remember meeting him halfway and him dragging the bag through the door as I smothered him with passion and kisses. We barely made it to the couch.

I remember meeting Tourmund for the first time, and immediately loving the banter between Jon and him. I laughed so hard that day, learning another side of him that I didn’t know before. Seeing him through his friend’s eyes just made me want to know more about him. There was a moment that Tormund told a story about a pizza box, a girl, and Sam of the Law division, and Jon had finished laughing. Staring at him over his beer, and the left over chicken wings, I knew that I would never be able to truly describe what it felt to see him. To know that I was with him, that what we were sharing was something altogether perfect.

I remember Missandei and her inquisitive nature, and the way she winked at me, as he went out to help Gray with the grill. The way she hugged me, and her comment about this being as content and happy as I had been in ages. She was right. That day was one of the best. I had the man of my dreams sitting beside me at a table with my two best friends in the world. I was extremely happy that day.

The next day he told me to pack a bag, and that night I spent at his apartment. Walking in that first time, my senses were bombarded by what was inherently Jon. Everything about the kitchen, the den, his bathroom, and certainly his bedroom spoke volumes about him. I couldn’t get over the feeling of being in his home. The place that he took solace in, the place that he laid his head down at night. I was here and he was sharing this with me. When he took me back home two days later, while I was unpacking I found an envelope. A small note and a key lay inside. The note simply read:  _ This is yours. _ He had a key to my place, but a man giving you a key to his home, is not something that you take lightly.

I remember one night laying beside him, it was quiet, all except the waves crashing upon the shore. I looked at this man, on what was his side of the bed now, facing him, legs tangled with one another, our hands tucked underneath our pillows. I knew that was the moment that I wanted to tell him everything I had felt from the very first moment I saw him. It came to me through tears, as I smiled at him. His forehead wrinkled, just a little, and he reached across the small expanse to wipe them away. He asked me what was wrong.

“Nothing, nothing is wrong.”

“Why are you crying, Dany?”

“Because I am happy.”

A beat in between the spoken words that broke the silence of that moment. The smile on his face, the joy there previously unseen. I knew he was happy, too. But we had gone too long without admitting what we knew so long ago.

“Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Dany, I love you too, so much.”

I remember being so nervous. Why I am not sure. I knew this man felt the same. You don’t share things like we had and not love someone. I knew he loved me by the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me, the way he touched me. But I don’t know what it is about saying the words that scare a person. It just does. He does what Jon does best though, he soothed me, calmed me, made me believe.

I remember the day that he met my parents. Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen were very inquisitive the moment I told I wanted them to meet someone. They had never really liked Drogo, so they were a bit skeptical. Meeting him, talking with him, I knew this was different. Mom followed right along in the Targaryen women tradition and fell in love with him. Dad was being the father he always was, very protective. And after dinner, or the inquisition as I called it, Dad took Jon out back to “show” him the new pool table that he had purchased. I remember Mom giving me a look and telling me that everything would be fine. When we left that night, he shook Jon’s hand, and even smiled, just a little bit as he told him to come back anytime. I kissed my dad’s cheek and told him I loved him. That was my dad’s approval and along with mom’s obvious approval, I was the happiest I can ever remember being.

A week later, I met his parents. Lyanna and Rhaegar Snow. The way he spoke about them. The way he adored them, I was so nervous that night. I wanted more than anything for the both of them to accept me. I needed that for Jon’s sake. It wasn’t for me, but for him. I needed him to be happy, to have their approval. I knew that night that I wanted so desperately to be apart of his life. Because just like me, he had parents who loved one another, committed to one another, and I knew with role models like that just why he had turned out to be the best man I had ever met. His mother hugged me at the door, and held my face in her hands and kissed me on both cheeks, and told me that I must have lunch with her the following week. We have lunch every week now. His father hugged me, giving me a wink, and whispered his one request. That I take care of his son. I don’t plan to let him down.

Nine months ago, I had no idea that my life would be so extremely different. I was with Drogo then, ready to wait forever for him, and his almost promises. But one night and two dances later, I became a different person. I changed in a span of forty five minutes and Jon was the catalyst. He was the beginning of everything I needed and wanted. The way he looked, the way he spoke, his smile, his laughter, and his easy going nature, just captured me.

Drogo and I had been over for a while, but neither of us wanted to admit it. However, in that moment with Jon, waiting for Drogo, I realized that maybe all of this was just how it was suppose to happen. Maybe I wasn’t waiting for Drogo after all, maybe I was waiting for Jon, and Drogo was just the prologue to a great story.

It's then that I hear the keys in the lock of the door, and everything becomes quiet and slow. The music still drifts over the room, and I close the book that I have been attempting to read for the past hour. I don’t even mark my page, I am only on page one. The book now lies on the table beside me right next to my glass of wine. Sitting behind the glass and the book is a half empty bottle of wine and a small companion. A tiny picture frame holds a piece of paper with a number and three words. It’s a reminder of the good things.

The hardwood floor signals his arrival. The pace is quick, yet steady. One hand still thrown over my head, the other resting on my stomach and my smile joining the both of them in anticipation. I can sense him before I see him. He is quiet now, the carpet muffling his steps. He thinks I am asleep, but as he looks down on me, I shift my eyes to meet his.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Salutations conclude with him dipping down and capturing my lips in one of the best hello kisses I have ever received. And with him, every hello kiss is the best kiss I have ever received. They keep getting better and better.

Hands in his hair and him bent over me, sitting haphazardly on the edge of the couch, he rests one hand at my waist and the other on my cheek. As he pulls away, my eyes remain closed for what I guess is a split second longer than his, because I am busy. I am memorizing this moment. I can taste coffee, one sugar. I can smell his aftershave from this morning. I can feel the tension in his shoulders, which indicate that today has certainly been stressful. Finally opening my eyes, I can see him looking at me like I am a drink of water for a thirsty man. His eyes are still soft, but they are tired. The gray flickers just a little bit with the candles help. The flames of fire and desire mirror one another.

His hair is slightly ruffled more than usual, and I can see the moments of frustration as he runs his hands through it. I can imagine on the way home, while driving he unbuttoned the first button, loosened his tie, ready to be away from the world of law and loopholes for the weekend.

“How was your day?” He doesn’t change his expression in the slightest, he just replies.

“Long. What about yours?” He says this as he plays with my hair, sticking it behind my ear, but then running his hand down the silver blond strands again and again.

“Long. But it's looking good now.” And there it is. The smile that just sends me to places I never thought I would be, and the reason that I made it my life long journey to make him smile as much as possible.

“Really?”

“Aye”

I see little specks of light shining through, that I am breaking through the wall that he puts up when he goes to work. The mode that he delves into so that the harsh world of reality will not taint his pure heart.

“Sorry, I am late. What did you have for dinner?” Apologies for nothing really. He is never late, this man has been on time since the moment I met him. In one way or another.

“I haven’t had dinner yet. It’s in the oven. I thought I would wait for you. We could reheat.”

I had dinner ready two hours ago, but it didn’t seem appetizing to me. I didn’t want to eat unless he was with me. So, it stayed right where I left it, waiting for us in the oven. And from all indications, it will probably have to wait a couple more hours. At the very least.

“Dany...” I shake my head, interrupting his speech on why I should have started without him, but he knows better. We do not eat dinner alone, we are always together for dinner. That was a rule, and we have stuck to it.

His late meetings are few and far between and my trips are virtually non-existent. The world of international banking does not hold the same intrigue as before. I transferred into the King’s Landing branch of our bank. Jorah, the 49-year old bachelor, gets to jet set around the world, as I walk into my office every morning at 9:00 and leave promptly at 5:00, and home by 6:00. I walk in carrying take out or an idea of the menu for dinner. And sometimes, at least twice a week, he is already waiting for me in the kitchen, creating some sort of masterpiece of some cuisine or he is outside mastering the grill.

He leans back and kisses me once more, and just as I begin to deepen the kiss, he pulls away. Giving me that evil grin as I whimper.

“I am going to go change, and then we are going out to the beach for a little bit, okay?

“Alright. Hurry up.”

With that he leaves me with a quick peck on the cheek, and I sigh. Yes, I actually sigh. There are too many moments and still not yet enough like these. My heart bursts with happiness and love. Living with him, in this apartment which was once mine, has become ours. His lease came up for renewal, we decided not to renew it. So, he moved here three months ago, and it became ours.

As he comes back in, khakis rolled up a little at the bottom and his blue button down shirt, I am not sure that going out to the beach is the best idea. I do my best to try and convince him otherwise, but he drags me to my feet and out the door.

We spend a few minutes talking about our day, and the wild night that Tourmund had last night. I tell him that Gray and Missandei are dating now. That causes his eyebrow to shoot up, and I tell him that I was surprised as well. Yet, we are both happy for them.

About a hundred yards down the beach, is a small pier, privately owned by the complex that we live in. I would sit out there by myself a lot before I met Jon, but ever since he had discovered it, it had quickly become our place.

Tonight, no different than the rest, he leads me over as he presses me back against it, and I am surrounded by everything beautiful, him. He kisses me long and hard, and it is all I can do to keep my sanity. He pulls back only slightly, leaning in, he tells me I am beautiful.

I can’t help but pull him to an embrace. And just like our first date, we are once again holding each other under the stars and the moon, and heaven.

When we finally let go, just enough to face one another, I notice that the wrinkles on his forehead are back as his brooding face.

“What’s going on?”

He breathes deeply, looking down quickly and then back up at me. He sees the worry, and he smiles just a little bit. Hoping to give him the courage to answer me, I smile back.

“Seriously, Jon, tell me. What’s up?”

“Today, one of our bosses, the one that we rarely see came into the office today. He is always out of town doing something only rich people do. You might remember him, we saw him at the Christmas party. Mr. Mormont, tall, powerful looking man.”

“Yeah, I know who you are talking about.”

“Well, anyway, he is in the office today, and he comes up to me, and tells me that he needs to see me. So, we go into his office and he tells me that I have been doing so well that they have decided to make me partner.”

“Jon, that is wonderful. That is what you have been wanting for so long now.”

“I know, it is unbelievable, but it was what he said next that really made me think. He wanted me to join him for dinner next week with him and his wife. And that he wanted me to bring my wife along. He said that he enjoyed meeting you.”

“He thought I was your wife?”

“Aye.”

A conversation from a lifetime ago, comes to mind. Drogo and a dance that ended us, because I knew he didn’t want the same things. That he didn’t share the same idea of our future. And for just a split second, I have an uneasy feeling, but that is also when I see the smile that comes over his face.

“And Dany, I stood there for a second, and then I explained to him that we weren’t married. He asked me why not? And God, Dany, I liked the idea that he thought you were my wife. I absolutely loved the idea of your name being Dany Snow.”

Tears spring to my eyes, hearing him say what I had only dreamed of was so overwhelming.

“All day, I sat there thinking that I was coming home to you, and that is all I wanted to do for the rest of my life, come home to you.”

It is then that he pulls the tiny box from his pocket. And he bends his knee, like I’m some kind of royalty. He opens it to reveal a ring, a princess-cut diamond wrapped in a brilliant halo of round diamonds.

“Dany, this is my grandmother’s ring. My grandfather gave it to my grandmother and she wore it until the day she died. My dad gave it to my mother, and she wore it until two months ago. When she met you, she gave it to me. She knew, Dany. She knew you were the one.”

Tears that threatened are now rolling down my cheeks, as I hold in the gut wrenching sobs. It is a happiness I thought did not exist. And now, it is here, and right in front of me.

“Dany, I knew too. From the moment I met you. It was everything about you. I can’t get enough of you, Dany. I just can’t.”

He takes the ring out of the box, holds the ring up to me, eyes shining with unshed tears of his own.

“Dany, will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost ending.... I'm having such a great time inside their heads... Oh well. Hope you enjoyed it!


	8. Jon IV - Dance with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update but this whole social distancing thing made life a little hectic with home office, kids out of school, etc. Crazy. I'm almost done with the epilogue, so I'd hope I'll be able to update soon! 
> 
> Thank you to those who reached out asking when I'd update. Made me work harder!
> 
> Take care, stay safe and stay at home (if you can).

It is a perfect Westerosi night. The summer breeze is warm tonight. And the rain from this afternoon has cleared, but it has left these King’s Landing streets cleansed. As I hand the valet my keys, I button my suit, heading into the restaurant. This place brings so many memories back to my mind. They are playing out like a movie right in front of me. Entering the restaurant, I ask the young lady perusing over the books if my party is here yet. And before she can answer, I spot the most beautiful woman I have ever seen up at the bar.

She has a glass of wine in front of her, and she looks bored as she runs her finger along the rim of the glass. The black dress she has on was no doubt made for her, and her hair is long, silver blond, in intricate braids, curled just a little at the end. As I approach, I memorize every movement of her hair, the way her eyes dart from her watch to the television up above. There is a hockey game on, and I wonder if she is actually enjoying the game or if she is using it to distract herself.

The seat on her left is free, so I slip into it, praying and hoping to find the appropriate words, the right time to open up a conversation. She is fiddling with her napkin, and I can tell that this isn’t her usual scene. She isn’t here to pick up anyone, she is meeting someone. I decide that if there is ever time to say anything it is now, and just as I open my mouth to speak, this gentleman slides between her and the television monitor.

I sit quietly, listening to his line that he is laying on very thick. He is saying all of the right things. He tells that she is beautiful, that he couldn’t just sit by and not say something to her. He tells her that he was drawn to her, that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. And I wonder how many more men here tonight feel the exact same way.

She is pleasant, very cordial, and extremely gracious, yet there is a hesitation in her voice. She is nervous, I can tell. She is still fumbling with her napkin. The guy is persistent, and finally she has no room to be polite anymore. She tells him that she is waiting for someone. He says that he can keep her company while she is waiting. She turns him down.

He finally gives up, shaking his head at rejection and she turns back to her wine and her very interesting napkin. I decide that is the best time to broach the subject of a hello, so I take my cue.

“Nice napkin.”

A smile drifts over her face, spreading from her mouth, up to her blue eyes, and I swear she is shining with happiness.

“Yes, it is.”

She turns to me, gives me a smile and there is no doubt in my mind that she was made from all good and perfect things.

“So, I overheard you talking to that gentleman.”

“Do you eavesdrop on other people’s conversations often?”

She gives me a smile so that I know she isn’t serious. Her eyes are smiling enough to drown a man.

“I apologize, but it was almost impossible not to, he was pretty loud.”

“Well, I will give you that one.”

She isn’t bored anymore, I know that much. Her napkin is folded and to her right. She hasn’t fiddled with it since I started the conversation. She hasn’t once turned to the television monitor, so I have a really good feeling about this.

“So, you’re meeting someone?”

“Aye.”

“Me too.”

She nods her head, and takes a sip of her wine. The bartender makes his appearance asking for my order.

“I’ll have what she's having. Thanks.”

When he leaves, I ask her a question which prompts another one of those gorgeous smiles.

“What are you having, by the way?”

A little giggle and her eyes show her amusement. And I think it is the sexiest thing I will see here tonight. She doesn’t answer my question but follows with one herself.

“You said you were meeting someone? Is she late?”

“No, I am early. I like to be early. Have a glass of whatever, and calm down.”

“First date?”

“No.”

“Big date then?”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s an anniversary of sorts.”

“Oh, I see.”

“What about you?”

I have to say that the banter is enjoyable, and I find myself more and more drawn to her with each passing moment. She is leaning on the bar now, mirroring my position, and just as she opens her mouth to answer, the bartender interrupts quickly with my glass of wine.

I take a sip, and give her nod. I have always loved a great Dornish red.

“Sorry, as you were saying.”

“A little celebration. I’m early, as usual.”

“I was actually wondering about that. Because I can’t imagine anyone making you wait.”

And I mean it. And she knows that I mean it.

“Well, I don't know about that, but thank you.”

She blushes, and it is at that moment when she tucks her errant tendrils behind her ear, that I am greeted with the simple silver band on her left ring finger.

“So, you are married?”

“Yes. Three and a half years now.”

“Congratulations.”

It’s in the way that she says yes, and in the way she announces the passage of time. You can tell that she is proud. That she is simply happy.

“Thank you. What about you? Are you married?”

“Aye.”

“It makes sense now.”

“What does?”

“The anniversary. You are celebrating your anniversary tonight.”

“Actually, it’s not our wedding anniversary. It’s the anniversary of the first night we met.”

“Really?”

“Aye. You sound surprised.”

“No, no. It’s nice. Some men don’t remember that type of thing, that’s all.”

“Well, meeting my wife, you don’t forget days or moments like that.”

“I know what you mean.”

And by the look on her face, I know that she does. She looks alive, radiant. And she reminds me over and over what it is to know that you are loved and that you love. That smile is back, and there come the dimples. She reaches across to hold my hand.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Dany, if it is possible, is more beautiful than I have ever seen her. It is not that she has changed over the years, it’s just the simple fact that she is my wife. And that makes her the most beautiful woman in the room, in the world.

I am reminded of that night five years ago when I first touched her, when I asked her to dance. I can still feel it, the shivers that ran up my spine, the electricity of the moment. And the way that she held my whole world in the palm of her hands. She became the dream that night. Tonight, along with every other night that I spend with her, is a dream come true.

“Dany, you look so beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“This old thing.”

She giggles, because she knows that she has never seen this suit before. Heck, I spent the better part of the day in a men shop around the corner trying to find a suit. She likes me in black, and she loves the white shirt, unbuttoned at the top. So, I gave her just what she ordered.

“Jon, you really do look good.”

And she says it with such a sense of goodness and sincerity that I find myself almost unable to speak. So, I don’t speak, I just close the distance and give my wife a kiss. Pulling away, my hand makes its way up to her face. She has her hand on my jacket, pulling me closer all the while. Matching grins as we realize just how amazing all of this is.

“Did you get Alys squared away?”

“Yeah, your mom said hello. Alys was playing with your dad when I left. I don’t even think she noticed me saying goodbye. She has your dad wrapped around her little finger.”

“Well, those Targaryen women will do that.”

“Maybe the Snow men are just that easy.”

If I were any happier at this moment, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. This woman can make me laugh more than anyone, she is the most gorgeous creature the Gods ever made. She would argue with me though, and I admit there is only one other human being on the planet that means as much to me as she does. Our daughter, Alys, born eight months ago, crashed into our lives. And she brought more love, more fun, more absolute soul-inspiring grace to our lives than Dany and I ever imagined. She got the best of both of us, and I am quite sure that she will be a better person than both of her parents combined. I can see it in her eyes. She has her mother’s eyes. And her mother’s dimples and her beauty. It doesn’t stop at her physical beauty, you can feel the beauty seeping out of her tears and her smile. She is everything we ever wanted, everything we will ever need, she is the proof that love is bliss.

So, sitting beside my wife, the mother of my child, I am moved once more at how perfect my life is. This perfection has nothing to do with our careers, the house we live in, or the cars we drive. It is perfection born out of a love too deep to fathom, and too forever to measure.

I take the chance to pull my wife up and to me, as I wrap both arms around her. And that’s when both of her hands find their way to the nape of my neck. Hands inching towards my hair, where they find their rest most of the time. I ask her the question I have been waiting to ask all night.

“Dance with me.” It comes out in a whisper. It’s not a command. It’s a plea.

“I would love to.”

And so we do. We dance and one dance becomes two. And two becomes three, and pretty soon I can only see her. There is no one else here. We dance as if we are the only two people in the room with only the rest of our lives to live.

With her head buried in the hollow of my neck, clutching me to her long and slender body, she says the words I never get tired of hearing. And every time she says them, I can feel them.

“I love you.”

“And I love you, Dany.”


	9. Dany V- That is our whole world right there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the epilogue. I had such a great time writing this story. No drama, just pure adult, mature fluff, falling in love. It was great! Thanks to all of you who reviewed and enjoyed it. It means a lot to us, writers, who share our stories of these characters we love with y'all!

The traffic is a nightmare, backed up from the moment that I pulled out of the parking garage to the stop sign a hundred fifty feet down the highway. I made it that far in about ten minutes, and I feel that somehow, this may be where the greater part of my afternoon will be spent. In the car, listening to an old purple dinosaur singing some song about love, sounding like a drunk old man who just came in from the cold. And yet, a smile comes to my face every time that drunk old man dressed up like a purple dinosaur sings. Usually, Alys is in the back seat, creating small talk, as I ask her if she had fun, if she is ready to see daddy, and if she knows just how much mommy loves her. It is about this part of the song, that I hear a little voice come alive in the backseat, giving the best impression of this drunk dinosaur’s back up singer that I have ever heard, if I do say so myself.

A spare diaper bag sits in the floorboard of our family sedan, with the toy keys and a book about baby animals sticking out of the side pocket. There is a sippy cup perched precariously in the front seat, and I reach over to put into the bag while I wait for the cars to move. Thank God for sippy cups. Really.

I miss Alys’ company most of all on days like this. She could keep me entertained, and most of the time, she keeps my temper quelled. We have our best talks at times like these. She will gibber on about something and I can’t help but laugh. Because there are times that she seems so serious, and other times that she smiles so big, and giggles so hard that I will hear the faint sound of hiccups as a precursor to something I will have to clean up at the next red light or stop sign.

Alys is with her daddy today. He had the day off, which almost seems unfair, seeing as it is my birthday. He is so good with her. She is a daddy’s girl, but she is certainly a momma’s girl as well. But there is something about the way that Jon takes care of her, something that pulls at my heartstrings. There have been a countless number of times that I have simply stood outside her nursery when he sang her favorite lullaby, sat on the back porch while they played in the yard, leaned against the door frame as he prepared dinner while giving Alys is own version of the Julia Child voice.

Alys loves her father, you can see it in her smile. The way that she hugs him, a knowing hug that this man is her daddy, her protector, the man that would give his life for hers in a blink of an eye. He is fiercely protective, but he is also very vulnerable to his little girl. There are only a few times that I have seen this man brought to tears. The first time, he was on his knee in front of me asking me to be his wife. The second was the day he made good on his promise and married me. The rest of his tears are reserved for Alys. The first time she fell and bumped her head. She screamed and cried, a cry that you felt deep down. And he thought that somehow he was to blame. And even though I explained to him a hundred times that babies fall, that they will get hurt, he hurt for her. I cried too, but I cried harder at the sight of a grown man hurting for his little girl.

I caught him crying one night just holding her as she slept. She had been sick all day, and we had worked with her on an off for the past five hours. And before she fell asleep, she had these crocodile tears in her eyes, that just ripped him apart. Standing in the doorway of our bedroom, watching him walk with her back and forth, crying right along with her, I felt the most incredible amount of love I have ever felt. My whole life was in that room, right there with those two human beings. They held all of me. They were everything.

I see so much of Jon in Alys. She has his curls. Beautiful black curls. She got our dimples, but I think they are deeper than both of ours combined. She is the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen, and yes, I am bias. But still, I am sure that I am right.

It’s not just the physical part of Jon that she has acquired. She already has the beginnings of his taste for hockey. But she really hasn’t had a choice. From the moment she was born, she has been in his arms watching the Night’s Watch. And even now, impatient as she is, all Jon has to do is say Night’s Watch, and the girl is bubbly. Watch was her third word by the way. I cannot tell you how many nights we have all sat on the couch as a family watching the hockey game, Alys watching her father. She follows his lead. If he screams, so does she. If he cheers, she is right behind him.

She is a curious child, never opting to stay idle for long, aside from a hockey game or two, she is always into something. Wandering around the house, now that she has found her footing, she can go 0 to 60 faster than Jon’s car.

She has her own personality, and my temper. I wish that was one more thing she had of Jon’s. He has always had the coolest head of us both. But Alys is simply the product of a love too great to contain, and she is the embodiment of a love that will last as long as she does, as long as her children and her grandchildren walk this earth. She is forever, just like our love.

Finally, getting to the freeway, the traffic loosens up and I figure that I am only about fifteen minutes away from the both of them. I wonder what I will cook for dinner. Let’s face it, there are no big plans for tonight. Jon said he would take me out Saturday night while Missandei and Grey watch Alys. The day has been way too long for my taste. This thirty-three year woman has had enough, and all I want is to walk into our house, kiss my husband and my daughter hello. I want to spend the rest of the night in his arms, and her in my arms, and maybe watch the little girl with the comfy couch. Whatever makes her happy. That would be the best birthday present I could ever ask for.

As I pull into the driveway, I feel the day washing away. I pick up my briefcase, and make haste to the door. It is locked, and I am sure that Jon and Alys are probably out back somewhere. They both love the beach. Don’t even get me started on the amount of sand that I have found in her clothes. Let’s just say, we could have a sandbox in the house.

It is very quiet as I walk in calling their names. And then I hear it, a small giggle coming from the dining room. I come into the room calling for Jon, when I stop dead in my tracks. There in front of me, is dinner waiting on the table, and Jon holding Alys. He is in those black slacks of his that I love, and a gray shirt that fits him and his eyes perfectly. Alys is all decked out in her pink little dress complete with a bow in her hair. She is grinning and giggling.

And it’s then that I get a surprise from both of them, although Alys’ sounds like a completely different language as she raises her hands above her head. Jon laughs and I cry tears at the sight of the two most beautiful people in the world. Dressed up and ready for me.

He walks over to me, as I cover my face with my hands. He takes one of them away, and I look in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, my queen.” He kisses me and it’s a good kiss. The kind of kiss that you dream about coming home to, the kind you dream about all of the time. Alys interrupts us, by pressing her head into my shoulder. She reaches around my neck as I break away from Jon. I take her in my arms, and she buries her head into my neck. It is a great hug, the best hug from my daughter.

She takes her best shot at telling me just how much she loves me and gives me a sloppy kiss on my cheek. There aren’t enough kisses in the world to tell both of them how much they mean to me.

The rest of the night is spent eating our dinner, and laughing hysterically as Jon and Alys sing happy birthday to me, while we all wear matching birthday beanies. The cake is a glorious disaster for Alys. And I have to say is that Jon did a fantastic job. He knows my favorite cake. I love that he remembers all of the little things.

After a night of watching random children’s movies, and Alys fast asleep in my arms, I take her to her bed. Tucking her in, giving her an extra kiss for sweet dreams. As I turn to go back into the main room, I find Jon standing in the doorway. His smile could light up the sky.

He waits for me to come to him, and then he kisses me and wraps his arms around me. I could not feel any more love than at this moment.

“Thank you so much for tonight. This is the best birthday I have ever had.”

“You are more than welcome. It’s not over yet.”

“Jon?”

“Come here.”

He grabs my hand, dragging me down the hall and into the den. And it's then that I hear it, the song that played the first night we met. It wafts throughout the room, and for just a moment, I am looking at Jon and I see the man that I did that night. And in a split second, I see our entire relationship. I have to say that there is nothing that I would change, not a moment, because it all led up to this day. And how we are right now, and to me that is perfect.

He sits me on the couch, and seats himself on the table right in front of me.

“Your big present is coming Saturday night.”

“Jon, you have done so much already....”

“Nope, don’t even start with me, Dany. The reservations are already made, Missandei and Grey are looking forward to Alys as much as I am looking forward to taking my wife out, so that ends it. Okay.”

“Okay.” And his smile is so glorious that I close the distance quickly and give him a small little kiss.

“Thank you, Jon.”

“Dany, this is just the beginning. But here is your first gift.”

“This is my third gift, you and Alys are the best ones so far tonight.”

He squeezes my hand, gives me that soft smile and continues.

“Well, anyway, here is your third gift then.”

It is a small bag, with the tissue hanging out of it loosely. I take the paper out of it, and inside is a beautiful antique picture frame and as I turn it around, the tears quickly take residence. In the silver frame, is a picture of Jon, Alys, and I in the park, under a tree. He is holding me, and I am holding her, and no matter how you look at the picture, you can feel the love.

“It’s just a small present, but I thought you would like it.”

“Jon, this is gorgeous. I can’t even begin...”

“I know. That’s it isn’t? That is our whole world right there.”

“Yeah, it is.”

And with tears in my eyes, and down my cheeks, he takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.

This is certainly the best birthday I have ever had. 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!!


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